


Without You

by Mistress_of_Squirrels



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Parallel Universes, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-29 05:52:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15066569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistress_of_Squirrels/pseuds/Mistress_of_Squirrels
Summary: Ying agrees to test a modified courser chip for the Institute...with disastrous consequences.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Apocalypse Herald](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7187708) by [FreshMess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshMess/pseuds/FreshMess). 



> I want to offer a *huge* thank you to FreshMess her for letting me play with her idea. Thanks! This wouldn't exist without you.
> 
> Second, this fic is something I've been writing for fun, and I initially had no intention of posting. It's a little different from my others, and may not be for everyone. Also, it's something of an AU in that it doesn't fit in with my 'canon' for Ying.
> 
> **The title is borrowed from the song of the same name by Breaking Benjamin, and in my opinion, really sets the theme for this.

Ying eyed the thin piece of metal, barely listening to the man across from her as he droned on about molecular relays and the transference of matter. All gibberish to her, but it was clear he enjoyed explaining it, so she did her best to feign interest while she tried to remember his name.  It wasn’t until she caught him watching her, one thin brow arched in question, that she realized her act may not have been as convincing as she’d hoped. 

 

“Well?”

 

“Very Impressive, doctor....?”

 

“Davis”, the man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you? I suppose it’s to be expected. Well, no matter. It functions much like the standard chip, so I’m confident even you should be able to figure it out.”

 

Uncurling her fingers from a reflexive fist, Ying let her hand fall to her side and and gave Davis a tight smile. She might be able to talk her way out of a few botched missions, but she doubted Father would believe breaking this asshole’s nose had been an accident. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

 

Davis’ pale green eyes swept over her, his mouth tugging into a frown. “I do hope so. The director believes you may be of some value to us; I suppose I can only trust in his judgement. Now, if there’s nothing further, I’d like to install the chip so we can begin testing.”

 

“Just out of curiosity,” Ying began as she unstrapped her Pip Boy from her wrist. “what does the directorate think of your...project?” She bit her lip to hold hold back a satisfied grin when Davis flushed a bright red. 

 

“ _ Projects _ are for classrooms,” Davis huffed. “What you see here is the culmination of more than a decade’s worth of work.”

 

“Of course. I meant no offense, doctor.” Certainly not the biggest lie she’d ever told, but easily in the top ten. “And the directorate?”

 

“The directorate currently has more pressing matters to attend.”

 

“In other words,  they rejected you.”

 

Davis looked up long enough to shoot her a mild glare and then went back to work, carefully lifting the chip with a pair of forceps and placing it inside the plastic casing of the Pip Boy. “They rejected a theoretical concept,” he corrected. “believing our...standard relay capabilities to be adequate for our needs. It’s my hope that having quantifiable data in hand will convince them otherwise.”

 

“And you think this will work?” Ying asked, waving a hand to indicate the mess of wires and electrodes. “I can teleport anywhere with that?”

 

“ _ Relay _ . This isn’t a science fiction novel. And yes. The modifications I’ve made should render our current limitations a thing of the past.” He flashed an expectant grin and then seemed to catch himself as he hastily cleared his throat and looked away. 

 

Spending their lives underground was clearly starting to have an effect, Ying noted. No wonder so many synths wanted memory wipes - these assholes were crazy. Still, if the tech worked, it was too valuable to pass up. The ability to teleport synths to safety would change the Railroad in ways she couldn’t yet imagine.  

 

“There. All finished,” Davis said, holding the Pip Boy out to her. “You know what to do?”

 

“You said it works like a normal courser chip?”

 

“Until my program is installed, yes. You’ll still need to relay to the ruins from the control room in order to exit the grounds, but once you’re on the surface, simply load the holotape I gave you and run the program. That will allow my modifications to take effect. From there, you should be able to select a set of coordinates from your map. Any location will do, though I must stress the need for discretion.”

 

“I can be discreet.”

 

Davis let out a skeptical hum. “I’m sure. In any case, that’s all I require. Once you’ve relayed to your chosen destination, the sensors I added will do the rest. All you need do is return the chip to me so I can analyze the data.”

 

“Right,” Ying nodded, barely able to contain her excitement. Tom was going to love this. “And I can tel... relay back the same way?”

 

“Considering it’s the only way to enter the Institute, I should say so, yes.”

 

“Got it.”

 

Ying fastened her Pip Boy and turned to leave. She’d just made it to the threshold of Davis’ office when she heard him call behind her, “Do be quick. As I’m sure you can imagine, that data is highly sensitive.”

 

“Understood.”

 

_ Well, shit. _

 

Chewing her thumbnail as the helix-shaped elevator began its slow ascent, Ying worked furiously to come up with a plan. 

 

Getting the new chip directly to Tinker Tom probably wasn’t going to be possible. She couldn’t just show up with new Institute tech in the middle of Railroad headquarters, and a time limit meant she wouldn’t be able to stop in Goodneighbor and leave her Pip Boy with Hancock like she normally did when working with the Railroad. The relay was instantaneous. Davis was bound to ask questions if she ran away with his chip for a few days, and that wasn’t even factoring in the sensors he’d mentioned. No telling what they were capable of picking up.

 

No, she couldn’t give Tom the chip; the risk of exposure was just too great. But she still had the holotape, and it wouldn’t take long at all to make a copy. It might be possible to use whatever was on the tape to modify another chip. Of course, that meant finding another courser, but she could work out the details later. First, she needed to find a terminal to copy the tape.

 

A technician glanced up as Ying entered the relay control room, and it took everything she had to keep from rolling her eyes when the woman’s look of boredom melted into the odd mix of fear and awe some of them got when they saw her. 

 

She got it, she really did. A sixty year old man calling a woman not yet half his age ‘Mother’ was fucking weird. Ying understood that better than most. But the way some of the Institute seemed to revere Father - and by extension, her - was beyond unsettling. 

 

“You...” the woman breathed, peeking up shyly from beneath shaggy brown bangs. “you killed that rogue synth.”

 

Ying sighed, dreading where the conversation seemed to be heading. “Yeah.”

 

Popular opinion on how she handled Gabriel tended to be mixed. Ayo had been furious that she’d ‘botched’ the retrieval, and most of the scientists leaned towards his view, lamenting the loss of the unit. A few, however, saw any synth beyond the Institute’s control as a danger to be put down at all costs. 

 

Privately, Ying thought both groups were idiots. Gabriel had lived like a raider, and he’d died like one, simple as that. 

 

“But...how?”

 

“People tend to die when you shoot them in the face,” Ying said dryly. 

 

The woman paled, eyes dropping to the revolver at Ying’s hip as she gave a slow nod. “I see. I’m just glad it’s no longer a threat. Thank you.”

 

Biting her tongue to quell the automatic correction of pronouns, Ying rolled her shoulder in an uncomfortable shrug. “Yeah, sure.” 

 

“Well, I won’t keep you,” the technician smiled. “I’m sure you have lots of important things to do, Be careful up there.”

 

“...Thanks.” 

 

With an awkward wave, Ying entered the relay, watching as the woman outside turned back to her machines. She punched a few buttons and the platform began to vibrate gently beneath Ying’s feet, the tall pillars around her crackling with energy. The room lit with a bright blue glow, and then the walls faded from sight, only to be replaced by the deserted ruins outside the CIT building. 

 

Eager to get started, she loaded the holotape Davis gave her, waiting impatiently as the screen scrolled through strings of numbers and code. A few minutes later, it flashed again, indicating the installation was complete. Thumbing the dial to her map, she studied the glowing interface, finally deciding on the Red Rocket out by Sanctuary. 

 

The old station was too close to Sanctuary to turn into a full settlement, so Ying had claimed it for herself. It was private - no witnesses that would catch her suddenly blinking into existence - and it even had a working terminal. She could copy the tape, stash it there until she had a chance to bring it to the Railroad, and still get back before Davis grew suspicious and raised the alarm. 

 

Taking a deep breath, Ying selected the coordinates on her map, and turned the dial. Once more, the world disintegrated into electric blue, so bright she had to close her eyes against it. She reeled, stumbling as the ground seemed to drop out from under her only to slam back into place, and opened her eyes... to a snarling alpha and his pack of mongrels. 

 

“ _ Damn _ it.”

 

The alpha lowered his head and let out a rumbling growl, hackles rising in patchy clumps. He lunged, skeletal jaws snapping inches from her leg, only to pull back at the last second. A feint, but a successful one, as it allowed the two behind him to creep forward and flank her.

 

Taking a cautious step back, Ying drew both Kellogg’s revolver and her knife, keeping her gaze locked on the alpha, and relying on peripheral vision to keep track of the other two. Milky eyes followed her every move as the alpha scented the air, thick strings of saliva dripping from its sagging jowls. It darted forward again, and Ying raised the revolver and fired, baring her teeth in visceral satisfaction when the alpha yelped and stumbled back, bleeding from his side. Movement on her right warned her that one of the others had circled behind her. She fired once more in the alpha’s direction, and raised her knife, pivoting to meet the mongrel behind her just as it leapt for her unguarded back. Her blade sank between it’s ribs, but the weight of the dog wrenched it from her hand as the animal fell to the ground in a shuddering heap. 

 

A faint shimmer near the dying mongrel drew her attention, and Ying watched, fascinated, as the empty space behind it seemed to ripple and bend. Small fingers of lightning carved a jagged, faintly glowing border roughly her height and half as wide. It looked like something had ripped a hole in the air itself, with everything outside the tear appearing normal, while anything inside warped and wavered like a fun-house mirror.

 

Unable to contain her curiosity, Ying moved closer to investigate. She raised a hand toward the strange distortion, perplexed as the fine hairs on her arm rose and the tingle of static electricity washed over her skin. Too late, she realized her mistake. 

 

A ragged growl and the loping beat of canid footfall were all she heard before a dark shape hurtled toward her, knocking her aside as though she weighed no more than a doll. Sharp teeth clamped around her arm, rending flesh and muscle. Ying let out an agonized cry, inwardly cursing herself for forgetting about the other dog. Choking back a moan, she managed to get to her knees, but the mongrel held on. Her revolver lay in the dirt a few feet from her, but reaching it was impossible. Held fast in the mongrel’s powerful jaws, it took all of her strength just to keep the animal from dragging her away.

 

Weaponless, she resorted to punches and jabs. The beast flinched but held on, unwilling to let its prey escape so easily. Ying screamed as she felt its teeth sink deeper, and out of desperation, she hooked the thumb of her free hand and jammed it into the mongrel’s eye. The result was immediate. Releasing her with a howl, it gave a violent shake of its head and pawed at its face. It staggered sideways, disoriented from pain, and with a drunken lurch, ran right through the tear. 

 

To Ying’s utter disbelief, it simply disappeared. 

 

The border of electricity grew bright enough to make her eyes water, expanding until she thought what she was seeing inside wasn’t the broken trees and pavement that should have been there, but chunks of rubble and mangled rebar. Suddenly, the entire thing flared and seemed to fold in on itself. Then it collapsed with a deafening clap of thunder that rattled her teeth and left Ying seeing stars.

 

Dazed, she tried to stand, only for her vision to pitch sharply as everything started to spin. Closing her eyes only made the vertigo worse, leaving her clawing at the dirt in a desperate bid to regain some semblance of balance. Her stomach churned, and she heaved until her ribs ached, each spasm only bringing on another wave of the awful dizziness. When her stomach had nothing left to bring up, Ying lay still, too exhausted to even try to crawl away from the mess. Black spots floated before her eyes, and the slightest movement of her head made her feel like she’d been launched through space, but she still had enough sense to know passing out now would probably be the end of her. 

 

Fuck that. She wasn’t going out from a pack of mangy dogs and...whatever the hell that other thing was.

 

Gritting her teeth in renewed determination, Ying reached for a stimpack, groaning as the ground rolled and bucked beneath her. After several fumbling attempts, she managed to free one from her pack and clumsily jammed the needle through her jeans and into her thigh. Within minutes the vertigo eased, and she cautiously sat up to take stock of her injuries. 

 

Her arm was a mess of mangled tissue, already starting to knit, thanks to the stims, but far from healed. She was going to need someone to stitch it soon - that kind of damage was beyond her meager skills. Dried blood ran in a crusted line from her right ear and along her cheek where it had dripped onto her face. One of the knees of her jeans was torn, revealing a bloody scrape underneath, but the joint appeared otherwise undamaged.

 

All in all, except for the arm, she wasn’t doing too bad. 

 

Climbing slowly to her feet, Ying wrinkled her nose in disgust at the splatters of vomit that stained her clothes. Lucky for her, the Red Rocket had a water pump. It wouldn’t be as good as a change of clothing, but at least she could clean up. She’d only taken a few steps toward the station when she came to a sudden stop, a puzzled frown wrinkling her brow as she got her first good look. 

 

It wasn’t possible, but no matter how much she blinked or rubbed at her eyes, they told her the same thing. The station looked exactly like it had the day she’d left the vault. 

 

Cars, tires, all the old junk she’d cleared away was back - even the piles of leaves and trash. Inside, she found the same thing. The little bedroom she’d made was gone, the office once more filled with crates of coolant and stacks of old paperwork and magazines. Rusted tools and cans littered the floor of the garage, and aside from a couple bent wrenches, the ancient workbench was empty. 

 

“What the hell?” 

 

Placing her hands flat on the counter, Ying bowed her head and took several deep breaths.There had to be an explanation. She’d entered the wrong coordinates, or maybe that fucking mongrel had rattled something loose when he was shaking her around like his personal chew toy.

 

Ying glanced at her Pip Boy, hoping to confirm she’d somehow picked the wrong location, but instead of the glowing lines of her map, she was greeted by a darkened screen and her own reflection staring back at her. She smacked the the plastic of the case in mounting frustration, but no amount of hitting or fiddling with the controls made any difference. It was dead, probably fried by that freak storm or whatever it was. 

 

_ That has to be it. Just some weird ass storm, and this is all some kind of hallucination brought on by shock or something. _

 

Maybe she’d hit her head, and just hadn’t felt it - that would certainly explain the dizziness she’d experienced. Or maybe this was some kind of side effect from that new chip…

 

A wave of relief so strong it nearly buckled her knees crashed over her. The chip! Of course it was the chip. She wasn’t losing her mind. All she needed was a doctor and some rest. Sanctuary wasn’t far, and they had a small clinic. She could go there and get checked out, maybe have Sturges take a look at her Pip Boy while she was at it. 

 

Calm once more, Ying took a few minutes to tend her arm. The deepest lacerations hadn’t closed, and traveling with them unbandaged was just asking for a nasty infection. She found a bottle of liquor in the office and some shop rags out in the garage. They were covered in dark splotches, but she’d just have to make do. Laying the rags out on the counter, she sat on one of the stools, holding the bottle between her legs so she could open it with one hand. After helping herself to a generous portion, she poured the alcohol over her wounds until she was sure they were properly disinfected, her breath hissing between her teeth as liquid fire raced through her arm. When the burning faded to a tolerable level, she tied the rags in place, grabbed her pack and left. 

 

She only made it about halfway to Sanctuary when that feeling of alarm came creeping back. Something was wrong. She couldn’t figure out why, exactly, or even if it was any one thing. It all looked familiar enough, but something just felt... _ off _ .  Nothing so blatant as what she’d found at the filling station, but she didn’t remember that tree leaning at quite that angle, and was almost positive that that large rock on the side of the road had been much smaller the last time she was through. Even the pattern of cracks and potholes in the road seemed foreign. 

 

Chiding herself for being ridiculous Ying pressed on. Things changed all the time, and it wasn’t like she’d ever stopped to memorize the minutiae of the wasteland. She’d be laughing about this tomorrow, and have one hell of a story for Hancock when she went back to Goodneighbor. All she needed to do was keep it together until then. 

 

Preston wasn’t at the bridge, and Ying couldn’t see him patrolling up ahead. She didn’t think too much of it at first, but the further in she got, the faster her heart raced. Preston wasn’t at the bridge because he wasn’t  _ there _ . No one was. 

 

This wasn’t Sanctuary. It  _ couldn’t  _ be. 

 

The settlement she’d helped build was gone, leaving the hollow remains of her old neighborhood in its place. The houses they’d repaired were in shambles, scraps of broken furniture and glass peeking out from the gaps in the walls. Even her own. It had taken forever to convince Preston to tear down her old house, and yet there it stood, a twisted hulk of rusted metal and peeling paint. Across the debris choked street, the skeleton of one of her neighbors leered at her from where it sprawled over a car. The small bones of its hands and feet had fallen off, but otherwise it remained intact. No one had been through here since the bombs, not even scavengers.

 

For the second time in as many hours, bile flooded her throat. Ying fell to her knees, retching until tears streamed from her eyes. It wasn’t possible. 

 

There was the porch where Mama Murphy liked to sit in that hideous chair of hers. The last time Ying was here, they’d sat together, talking and sneaking hits of jet when no one was looking. Behind the yellow house was where Marcy had planted the garden. She wasn’t the friendliest woman around, but she’d never turned away Ying’s offer to help with the weeding. The house by the bridge had been Preston’s, because even when the man slept, he was still on patrol. 

 

They were real. She remembered them, remembered building a thriving community here with them. How it could it all just vanish, like they’d never existed? 

 

“This isn’t happening,” Ying whispered. “It’s not real, it’s not…I’m dreaming. It’s just a dream... _ please _ let it be a dream.”

 

Grabbing the base of a streetlight, Ying pulled herself to her feet. If it was a dream, she could wake up. There had to be something here, something so outlandish it could only be conjured by her subconscious mind. If she found it, she’d have proof, and maybe then she could wake up from this nightmare. 

 

Starting her search in her old house made the most sense, relatively speaking. It contained a wealth of memories stretching far beyond the last year - a veritable playground for an overactive _id_. Beginning in the living room, Ying tore through the house like a madwoman, kicking or tossing aside anything that got in her way. 

 

Nothing stood out to her. Not her law degree hanging askew on the wall in it’s cracked frame, or Nate’s military medals, still gleaming amidst bits of broken glass. The furniture and ugly wallpaper were just as she remembered. Her coffee cup from the morning the bombs fell still sat on the counter, and Shaun’s dirty bottles still waited to be washed in the sink. 

 

Except…she didn’t think he’d gone through quite that many. After doing the math in her head, she was sure of it. There were at least twice as many bottles as Shaun would have needed in the short time he’d been awake. Ying hadn’t been the greatest housekeeper, but she always made sure the dishes were washed. Nate insisted, and he’d have said something if she left them overnight. 

 

She raced to Shaun’s room and could only stare, vaguely aware of the strangled cry that forced its way from her throat. Her stomach clenched, her pulse accelerating as a dull buzz hummed in her ears.  There, in the middle of the room, sat not one, but  _ two  _ cribs. With a trembling hand, she reached for the second, half believing it was some terrible mirage. Her fingers met solid wood, splintered and faded from the ravages of time, but undeniably real. 

 

_ Oh god...No. No, no, nonono! What’s happening?!? What - fuck. Fuck Fuck. FUCK!! _

 

It was too much. 

 

With a shattered wail, Ying sank to the floor, curling into a shivering ball on the threadbare rug. Her shoulders shook with hiccuping sobs and no matter how hard her lungs pulled, she couldn’t draw a full breath. Clawed fingers tore at her hair, but even the sharp burn of her scalp wasn’t enough to wake her. She was trapped in a nightmare reality where nothing made sense.  Her friends were gone. Her  _ world  _ was gone, and the most terrifying part of all was that she could no longer convince herself she was asleep. 

 

Somehow, this was real. And there was no way out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone that left comments/kudos!

Ying woke with her head throbbing, and her mouth dry. Her arm ached, the skin tight and hot. Beads of sweat dotted her brow, though whether from the bright beams of sunlight streaming in through the windows, or something more sinister, she didn’t know.  As she looked around the room, so alien and _wrong_ with its extra crib, she wasn’t sure she cared. She’d lost everything. The life she’d built, the people she loved... _John_.

 

All of it gone and this time, there was no missing child to fight for. Whoever those cribs had belonged to, they weren’t her children.  This wasn’t her house. This wasn’t her world.

 

This... wasn’t her world.

 

It sounded crazy, but compared to everything she’d seen, the impossibility of her situation, it made a frightening amount of sense. Davis said he’d changed the chip to allow teleportation _anywhere_. She’d assumed he meant the Commonwealth, but really, who knew? And what was harder to believe - that she’d fabricated her entire life, or that she’d somehow slipped beyond reality as she knew it? It was enough to make her head spin, but the chip...that strange tear...the way everything seemed to be some twisted variation of what she remembered….

 

Trying to put it together without all the pieces was making her head pound like an angry drum. Ying massaged her temples and sighed. If there was any logic to this at all, it was tied to the chip, and if the chip was what brought her here, it could take her back. She had a starting point at least; a reason to get up off the floor. The first order of business was finding someone to fix her Pip Boy. Even if she had gone completely batshit, there still had to be people around _somewhere_.

 

Sanctuary and the Red Rocket were both what _she_ had made them. That was their common factor. Going outside of that left Diamond City and Goodneighbor as the two settlements populated enough to find someone with the kind of skills she needed. Her heart ached at the thought of Goodneighbor, and her first instinct was to head straight for it. But if she was wrong...if it really was just her in this place, or if Goodneighbor was somehow different, she didn’t think she could bear it. That left her one option.

  


*******

  
  


By the time Ying reached Diamond City, she was definitely running a fever. Sweat dampened her temples and soaked the neckline of her shirt. Light was a hot knife to her brain and her eyes felt dry and gritty. Her arm...her arm was one mass of throbbing pain that only grew worse as time wore on. She tried to ignore it, but every beat of her heart was another reminder. The bandages had grown damp with blood and other fluids she didn’t want to think about, but she hadn’t been able to find anything to replace them with. She hadn’t looked beneath them yet, but by the way the strips of rag bit into her skin, she could tell her arm was swollen, and probably not something her queasy stomach was ready for her to see.

 

When she got to the gate, Ying could have wept at the sound of another human voice on the other side. She wasn’t alone. She still didn’t know anyone, but being trapped in a world of strangers was infinitely better than being trapped in a world by herself.

 

Drawing on the last of her waning strength, Ying did her best to stand up straight and not look or sound as sick as she felt. It wouldn’t do to have them thinking she was contagious. For a few moments, it looked like the guard that manned the gate wasn’t going to let her in, but it didn’t take long for the jingle of caps to win him over. Handing him his bribe, she entered the stadium, mentally tallying her remaining funds. She was going to have to be careful. There was no telling how long she’d be here and what little she had needed to last.

 

Ying wasn’t sure what she expected after Sanctuary, but it still hurt to find not only Piper, but Publick Occurrences missing from Diamond City. Like Preston’s group, it was as though the reporter just didn’t exist. Swallowing a wave of grief at what that implied for Goodneighbor and its mayor, Ying pushed farther into the market. She was starting to feel light-headed now, her vision flickering in time to the pulsing pain in her arm, but doctors weren’t free and getting her Pip Boy working had to be her priority.

 

Besides, she had time. Her feelings on the Institute aside, their medical technology surpassed any found on the surface. They could probably pull her from the brink of death if they had to, provided she found a way back to them.

 

Scanning the stalls for Diamond City Surplus, Ying was relieved to see that that at least was still around. She carefully picked her way through the throng of shoppers and approached the stall, but instead of Myrna’s suspicious frown, as she had expected,  she was greeted by the smiling face of a ghoul woman. Even stranger was that she recognized the face, but the name that went with it was lost in the shock of actually seeing a ghoul in Diamond City.

 

Hancock had told her how the ghouls were removed from the city when his brother became mayor. If they were still here, did that mean McDonough was never elected? Or that he was gone, like the others. And if _he_ was gone….

 

“...Did you come to stare, or are we going to do business?”

 

“I - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean - “

 

Ying snapped her mouth shut, her cheeks heating in shamed embarrassment. She knew what it must look like, but there was no way to explain.

 

“Hey, are you alright? You don’t look so good.”

 

“I’m fine,” Ying said quickly. She took a shuddering breath and placed her Pip Boy on the counter. Going back was all that mattered.   

 

“I was hoping you’d be able to fix this. I’ll pay, of course. Whatever your price.”

 

The vendor hummed and pulled the Pip Boy to her for a closer look. “It’s been a long time since I saw one of these. Never one quite like this, though.” She turned to rifle through a toolbox on the shelf behind her and returned with a screwdriver and an old table lamp. “Any idea what’s wrong with it?”

 

“No.” Ying said, with a shake of her head. “It just doesn’t work.”

 

She didn’t know enough about electronics to come up with a convincing lie, so sticking with the truth, however simplified, seemed her best bet.

 

“Well, let’s take a look.” Picking up the screwdriver, the ghoul moved the lamp closer and set to work loosening the screws that held the case together. “I’m Deirdre, by the way.”

 

_Deirdre_. The trader at the Slog. She could see it now, despite the jumpsuit and missing wig.

 

“It’s...nice to meet you, Deirdre. I’m Ying.”

 

It should have been a comfort to find a face she recognized, a friend, but it only sharpened Ying’s sense of isolation. This woman didn’t know her, and contrary to the flood of memories that insisted otherwise, Ying could say the same. The Deirdre she had known, while still friendly and warm, had a wariness this version lacked. It made sense, Ying supposed. This Deirdre hadn’t been thrown from her home by her own neighbors and forced to live in a separate community. The Slog probably didn’t even exist.

 

A yearning rose up in her, as quick as it was keen, and Ying swallowed against the sudden tight knot in her throat. She should have been happy the Slog didn’t need to exist. As much as she’d liked the place and its residents, it only formed because the ghoul refugees of Diamond City needed a safe haven. If it wasn’t around, that was a good thing. It was also one more reminder that she didn’t belong here. They had their homes, and she’d lost hers.

 

“You sure you’re alright?” Deirdre asked softly. She’d set her tools aside, and Ying was embarrassed to find herself the subject of the other woman’s full attention.

 

“Yeah. It’s just...it’s been a long day.”

 

“Ah. Well, tomorrow’s always new. With any luck, it’ll be kinder, too.”

 

“Here’s hoping,” Ying muttered.

 

“So, you from one of those vaults?” Deirdre asked, taking up her screwdriver once more. She used it to gesture to the Pip Boy and then started working on the last of the screws. “You don’t exactly find one of these just laying out in the ruins.”

 

“Yeah, I was.”

 

“What’s that like?”

 

“I really wouldn’t recommend it.”

 

Deirdre chuckled, but took the hint and changed the subject, chatting while she worked. Ying tried to carry her end of the conversation, but the longer she stood, the worse she felt. The throb of her arm was constant now, radiating into her shoulder and up her neck. Her mouth felt like she’d been eating sand, yet the mere thought of drinking anything made her stomach threaten violent retribution. The solid support of the counter was probably the only reason she was still on her feet, but if Deirdre noticed how heavily she was leaning against it, the ghoul didn’t comment.

 

An odd noise from Deirdre caught Ying’s drifting attention. She glanced over at the other woman and found her staring down at the open Pip Boy, brow crinkled in bemusement.

 

“What did you say happened to it?”

 

Ying gave a half-hearted shrug. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

 

“I don’t have a damned clue.” The ghoul lifted a bit of wiring in illustration. The rubber coating had melted, fusing it to a neighboring wire. “The circuits are fried,” Deirdre continued, pointing out more melted wires. “I’m not sure what you got into, but it would take one heck of an electrical surge - or a powerful magnetic field -  to cause that kind of overload. Neither of which that Pip Boy should be capable of producing.”

 

“But can you fix it?” Ying asked, fighting to keep the desperate edge from her voice. She knew the Pip Boy didn’t work - that was why she’d brought it here to begin with. She didn’t care about why.

 

Deirdre rubbed a hand over her thin mouth, head tilted as she considered. “I can try,” she said doubtfully. “The wiring is easy enough to replace, but some of those parts are hard to come by. This in particular,” she added, tapping the courser chip. “I’m not even sure what that _is,_ but there’s quite a bit of damage. If I had to guess, I’d say it was the source of the overload. Luckily, it doesn’t seem to be essential. I can remove it --”

 

“No!” Ying cried with such force her vision went gray and fuzzy. She swayed on her feet, gripping the counter to keep her balance. “No,” she repeated, drawing a slow breath in through her nose.  “I’d like to keep as many of the original parts as possible.”

 

“It won’t be cheap.”

 

“I didn’t think it would be.”

 

The ghoul studied her for a few moments, expression inscrutable. After an uncomfortable silence, Deirdre twitched her bony shoulders in an indifferent shrug. “They’re your caps. It’ll be two hundred for the repair, plus the price of any components I don’t have on hand. Half upfront, and we’ll settle the difference when it’s done.”

 

Without a word, Ying began counting out Deirdre’s fee, grinding her teeth as the trembling of her hands made the task take twice as long as it normally would have. The ghoul woman watched closely, opening and closing her mouth a few times as though she wanted to say something, but held her tongue.

 

When the last cap joined the pile, Ying pushed them toward the other woman. “One hundred caps.”

 

“I’ll need some time,” Deirdre warned, scooping the pile into a lockbox she kept under the counter. “A couple days, at least. Maybe more.”

 

Ying nodded. A couple days was a small price to pay if it got her home. “That’s fine.”

 

“Oh, before I forget. You left this in there.” Deirdre held out Davis’ holotape and sent Ying an apologetic grimace. “I don’t how much use it’ll be anymore, but I thought you might want it back anyway.”

 

Panic thrumming in her veins, Ying eyed the tape like she might a live grenade before hesitantly accepting it. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well, without knowing exactly what happened, I can’t be sure, but remember the magnetic field I mentioned? They’re pretty much a giant delete button for holos. Just...don’t be surprised if there’s nothing there, is all I’m saying.”

 

She was going to puke, or pass out. Maybe both, and there was no telling which would come first. Ying pulled away from the counter, the abrupt motion causing her head to spin. She had just enough presence of mind to call a quick thank you over her shoulder before she staggered out into the market. A few passerby sent scathing looks her way, turning their noses up in disapproval as they gave her a wide berth. They probably thought she was drunk, and Ying fervently wished they were right. Chems, booze - anything that would soften the latest blow the universe had decided to aim her way.

 

Without that tape, she was fucked. Even if the chip could be repaired or somehow replaced, it wouldn’t work without the program - Davis had been very clear about that. There was no going back.

 

No going home.

 

Tears burned her eyes as Ying blindly followed the curve of the street. She could feel the quick rise and fall of her chest as she fought to hold back a growing sob, but the sound was drowned out by a rapid thump that echoed through her skull.

 

Would anyone even know what happened to her? If Davis had any balls, Father might eventually get the story, but there’d be little he could do. The rest of them, though...John, Nick, the Minutemen and the Railroad...without a body to find, they’d never know for sure. Would they assume she’d turned traitor and abandoned them? A part of her couldn’t believe they’d think that of her. John and Nick wouldn’t. Not at first…. But after a point, could she really blame them if they did?

 

For their sake, it might be better if they did. Better to hate her then spend the rest of their unnaturally long lives wondering just what the fuck had happened to her. Ying knew if the situation was reversed, the not knowing would be unbearable. She also knew she was too selfish to let that happen. Even if she never made it back, she needed them to know the truth. There had to be another way - someone or something that could help her. She just needed to get out of this fucking city. She needed to --

 

Her frantic thoughts ground to a halt when she smacked into something solid. A pair of hands reached out to steady her while she blinked stupidly at the cotton expanse of the dingy t-shirt that now filled her vision.  

 

“Whoa…” a male voice chuckled - a voice that both soothed and disquieted for how achingly familiar it was. “You alright?”

 

Ying shivered, in dread or anticipation, she couldn’t tell. She tilted her head to look up at him, and her mind went blank, her legs numb.  

 

He had hair, a distant part of her noted, blond and pulled back into a careless tail. A few curling strands had escaped to brush his cheeks, now smooth, except for a day’s growth of light stubble. His eyes were a cobalt blue instead of the deep black she loved, but he had the same angled jaw, the same wide chin. She didn’t have much of a frame of reference for his nose, but even that wasn’t enough to throw her off.

 

She would know him anywhere.

 

His name slipped from her lips in a choked whisper, a question and an answer in turn.

 

“... _John…_ ”

 

“That’s me...” A perplexed frown creased his forehead, but his mouth quirked into a lopsided grin.

 

Heaven help her, even his expressions were the same! It was almost enough to make her forget the fear and loneliness of the last thirty-six hours. Without thinking, Ying reached for him, only for his next words to cut her to the core.

 

“...Do we know each other?” He laughed, an embarrassed little sound that broke her heart.

 

Ying swallowed hard, letting her hand fall limply to her side. Of course he didn’t know her. If he was anything like his counterpart, he probably thought she was some one night stand that had come back to bite him in the ass. Running into him and mooning like a schoolgirl only added to that impression.

 

Again, tears threatened, and this time there was no holding them back. She would have apologized had she trusted herself to speak. Instead she turned to flee, wanting nothing more than to put as much distance as possible between them.

 

“Wait!” John’s hand brushed the bandages on her arm as she ran by and Ying let out a ragged cry as fresh torment shot from her fingertips to her shoulder. She fell to one knee, clutching her injured arm to her chest as agony washed over her.

 

“ _Christ_! Are you okay?” He crouched down beside her, heedless of the stares directed their way.

 

“Fine,” Ying gritted between breaths.

 

“Here, let me see.”

 

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, blowing a lock of hair from her eyes with an irritated huff. A bit of a hypocritical statement, considering she’d been ready to throw herself into his arms only moments ago, but Ying had never claimed to handle vulnerability well.

 

With slow movements, John stood and raised both hands in front of him. “Right. No touchin'. Can I at least help you up? Seein’ as I’m the one that put you down there.”

 

Helping her up involved touching, but as there was no way she was getting to her feet otherwise, Ying didn’t bother to point that out. Letting her hair fall to cover the flush staining her cheeks, she jerked her head in a short nod.

 

With a sigh, John took her left hand and gave a firm but gentle tug, pulling her to a stand. Ying let go of his hand like it had burned her, only to snatch for it seconds later when the ground seemed to pitch and roll beneath her feet. The dizzy spell passed after a few moments, but hadn’t gone unnoticed.

 

“You should really see a doctor,” John said, casting a worried glance at the stained and crusted rags covering her arm. “We’ve got one here. C’mon, I’ll show you.”

 

Before she could argue, he moved his hand behind her elbow and urged her forward.

 

“I’m fine,” Ying protested. It sounded weak, even to her ears.

 

“You’re a bad liar,” John countered with a good-humored smirk.

 

He didn’t stop walking, and she had no choice but to move with him. It was that, or cause another scene by digging her heels in.

 

_Bastard_ . _What makes him think I won’t?_

 

Even as she silently fumed, she knew she wouldn’t. As much as she didn’t appreciate being led around like a child, she’d had enough of being stared at. A little voice whispered that there was another reason, one far more personal than her aversion for unwanted attention; it was something _he_ would do. From the moment she’d met him, Hancock had been able to see right through her. He’d have never let her get away with hiding an injury like that, either. He’d….

 

No. This wasn’t Hancock, and no amount of similarities would change that. She couldn’t get caught up in playing pretend, not when there was even the slightest chance the real thing was waiting for her.

 

“This isn’t necessary,” Ying tried, hoping to send him on his way. “I’m perfectly capable of walking to the clinic on my own.”

 

And she would, she admitted privately. Now that her plans of a quick return home were little more than wishful thinking, she really ought to get the bite wound looked at. She just hoped she’d still have enough caps left to pay Deirdre afterward.

 

“And here I thought you liked my company.”

 

“You aren’t giving me much _choice_ in company,” Ying shot back.

 

It was the right thing to say, as some part of her had known it would be, but Ying instantly regretted it. John stopped, an emotion she recognized as hurt flashing across his features. “I ain’t tryin’ to make you do anything you don’t want to,” he said stiffly. “You looked like you needed a hand, and I wanted to help. That’s all.”

 

“I know,” Ying sighed, unable to meet his eyes. “And I’m sorry. Really. I shouldn’t take my personal shit out on you.”

 

John moved to touch her shoulder and then hesitated, offering a shy smile instead. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Happens to the best of us.”

 

Despite her reservations, Ying couldn’t help but return it. For all that had changed, some things remained the same. On impulse, she laid her hand on his arm and nodded down at her own. “I really should get this checked out. I mean, if you still….”

 

“I offered, didn’t I?” John asked good-naturedly. “C’mon, it’s not far.”


	3. Chapter 3

John leaned against one of the Mega Surgery Center’s rusted support beams, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible while Sun talked with the newcomer. He hadn’t planned on waiting around - medical matters tended to be a private affair for most - but the anxious look she got when he went to leave had convinced him to stay. He understood. Going to the doctor wasn’t exactly his favorite pastime either, and having a stranger along was better than no one, he supposed. Though he got the weird feeling that wasn’t quite how she saw him.

 

A pained gasp came from behind him, and John shifted just enough that he could see Sun set aside the filthy rags from the woman’s arm.

 

“An infection like this can cause organ failure,” the doctor chided. “It was foolish to ignore it.”

 

Privately, John had to agree. Her arm was...bad. Even he could see that, no medical experience necessary. The limb was a dark purplish red from wrist to elbow, the skin puffy and tight. Blisters clustered around two oozing lacerations, and a number of smaller punctures had angry red streaks trailing from them. No wonder she’d dropped at a simple touch. Just looking at it hurt.

 

Turning back around to offer what privacy he could, John let his gaze drift over the market, the voices of Sun and the woman fading into the background noise. He still didn’t know her name, though she obviously knew his, and he had yet to make up his mind on how he felt about that. It wasn’t that he minded, exactly. John had something of a reputation around Diamond City. New or not, it wouldn’t be hard too hard to find out who he was. What got to him was the way she’d said it. No one but his mother managed to put that kind of affection into his name, and Ma sure as hell didn’t look at him with such raw longing when she did.

 

Someone from his past? John risked a backwards glance, getting another look at her as she rolled her eyes at Sun. No, even if he wasn’t the best at names, he usually remembered faces, and hers stood out. Besides, when would they have met? He’d never seen her around Diamond City before, and she had too much attitude to last long in Goodneighbor. And sure, he’d woken up in some strange places. Even lost some time now and then, but he’d have to be missing more than the occasional day or two for this to make any sense.

 

“I’ve done what I can,” Sun’s voice broke in. “But you should have come sooner.”

 

He gave the woman an accusatory glare, which was perfectly reasonable, and then turned the same look on him. John wasn’t sure whether he should be offended or amused. Wasn’t like _he_ was the one that bit her.

 

“So I’m all set?” the woman asked, already reaching for her bag.

 

“Yes,” Sun sighed. “I administered a bolus of antibiotics that should control the infection, but I can’t promise there won’t be any lingering nerve damage. Return here if there’s no improvement by tomorrow.

 

“You’re lucky to still have the use of your arm - or an arm at all. I advise you to take better care of yourself if you want to keep it that way.”

 

She paled at that, but nodded her agreement. After she paid Sun, John followed her back into the market. They walked in silence for a few minutes, going with the flow of the crowd, until she turned down a narrow, less populated walkway that wound past the school house.

 

“Look, I appreciate your help,” she said suddenly, stopping by an old car and turning to look up at him. “But I can handle myself.”

 

“Hey, no argument here,” John agreed, purposely ignoring what he was sure she’d intended as a dismissal.

 

She narrowed her eyes, an edge creeping into her voice. “Then you won’t mind if we go our separate ways.”

 

“Nah, I don’t mind.” John leaned his hip against the frame of the car and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag, noting the nervous dart of her gaze. Her eyes always seemed to find their way back to his, but she couldn’t look at him for more than a few seconds at a time. “Gotta admit, I’m curious about a few things, though.”

 

She tensed, spine going rigid, but her tone and expression remained cool. “Such as?”

 

John rolled his shoulders in a lazy shrug and brought his cigarette to his lips. “You, for starters.” He turned his head to exhale a cloud of smoke and continued. “Let’s start with a name. Seems only fair, seein’ as you already know mine.”

 

“Ying,” she said shortly. “My name is Ying. Does that settle the score?”

 

“It’ll do. ‘Course, I wouldn’t mind hearin’ how you knew my name to begin with.”

 

Ying hesitated, licking her lips. “I heard you could get your hands on decent chems,” she said after a moment. “Something with a little more kick than the shit up at Chem-I-Care.”

 

“I consider myself more of a consumer than a purveyor,” John chuckled. “But if you’re lookin’, I’ll keep you in mind.”

 

“Appreciate it. Now, if I’ve answered your questions, I have things to do.”

 

“See ya around, Ying,” John smirked, tossing her a mock salute. “Take care of that arm.”

 

She mumbled something that he didn’t quite catch and then started back the way they came. John watched her go, finishing his smoke while he went over their conversation in his head.

 

She was clever, that one. He didn’t get the sense she was lying, but no way in hell did he believe she was telling him the truth, either. She’d been caught off guard earlier when she ran into him. Half delirious from fever and pain, too, but she’d been honest then. Open. She wasn’t now. The walls came  up, and she hadn’t let them down since. He could understand that, if it weren’t for this game of hot and cold.

 

Grinding out the remains of his cigarette beneath his heel, John headed home. He had more questions than ever, but he wasn’t a stalker, and something this weird had to come out eventually. He could wait.

  


* * *

  
  
  


It was getting late, and Ying was exhausted. She’d always avoided staying in Diamond City, but her options were limited. There wasn’t anywhere else to go.

 

The Dugout Inn was much like she remembered it, including the proprietors. Vadim’s boisterous tones carried over the din of chatter and music as he boasted about killing a yao guai to one of his patrons. Ying grinned as she approached the bar. She’d heard at least three renditions of this tale before, all of them bullshit. Finding an empty stool, she sat and listened anyway. Like everything else about the man, when it came to storytelling, Vadim Bobrov didn’t take half-measures.

 

Vadim glanced over and smiled at her, holding up his finger to indicate he’d be with her in a moment. Ying’s grin slipped. Things weren’t quite the same after all, though it was nothing so obvious as a missing person or settlement.

 

Vadim looked different. His face was fuller than the last time she saw him, the fine lines around his eyes and mouth less pronounced. The silver streaks that used to dust his temples were gone, and while his hair was still styled in the close buzzcut she remembered, there was quite a bit more of it. He looked...younger, closer to her age, now, and a quick glance at his brother confirmed the same for the other man.

 

Something clicked in the back of her mind, but before she could examine it too closely, Vadim finished his story and came over.

 

“You need a drink,” he proclaimed, already reaching for a glass.

 

After a brief hesitation, she shrugged.

 

_Fuck it._

 

After paying Sun, she was short the remainder of Deirdre’s fee, so what did it really matter? Might as well put the rest of her caps to good use.

 

“I think you’re right, “ Ying agreed with a smirk.

 

“Best moonshine in all the Commonwealth,” Vadim bragged, brandishing a bottle. He poured a shot and laughed when Ying gestured for him to keep pouring. “Hah! I like you already! What is your name, friend?”

 

“I’m Ying,” she said, tossing a handful of caps on the bar. “And if I can still tell you that in an hour, you’re not doing your job.”

 

“That’s the spirit! I tell you what, you break the record for number of shots, and you pay nothing.”

 

“Yeah...let’s just see how it goes.”

 

Vadim wandered off to see to another customer, and Ying was left to her thoughts. She took a sip of her drink, grimacing as it burned the back of her throat. The second, larger swallow went down easier, and by the third, her entire body felt lighter, looser. A pleasant buzz hummed along her skin. She lit a cigarette and exhaled a stream of stale smoke with a long sigh, letting the noise of the bar wash over her. It was soothing, in a way, but despite the similar atmosphere, it wasn’t where she wanted to be.

 

There was an old jukebox, but she missed Magnolia’s sultry croon. She was genuinely fond of Vadim, but she missed Whitechapel Charlie’s sarcastic bite. She missed Ham’s glower, and Daisy’s warm smile. She missed everything about Goodneighbor, but most of all, she missed Hancock.  

 

Her chest tightened, and Ying finished what was left of her drink, signalling to Vadim with her empty glass for a refill. Thinking of Hancock conjured images of John, and with them came a pang of regret. She hadn’t been fair to John. He’d been nothing but kind to her, and in return, she’d been cold and defensive - when she wasn’t acting like a total creep, anyway.

 

It wasn’t his fault, of course, but John McDonough was dangerous. Ying couldn’t bring herself to lie to him anymore than she’d been able to lie to Hancock, and that was the problem. Despite the obvious physical differences, the similarities were so striking it was difficult to keep them separate in her mind. The truth was, John was a distraction she couldn’t afford. Unfair or not, it was best she avoid him. She’d slipped once already; she couldn’t risk doing so again.

 

Getting back, however hopeless it seemed, had to be her main concern - her _only_ concern.

 

Satisfied she had her priorities straight, Ying went back to her drink. Some time later, Vadim came by with another, and she was once more taken aback by how young he seemed. Her thoughts formed and scattered like a school of fish, making it difficult to remember why that had seemed so important, but on impulse, she clumsily waved him closer.

 

“Hey. Vadim.”

 

“Ah, I should ask your name now, yes?” the bartender asked with a chuckle.

 

“...What? No.” Ying blinked, then leaned forward, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You’re drunk, Vadim. I already told you my name.”

 

“Haha. Maybe so, my funny friend. Maybe so. Good news, either way, eh? Now, what can I do for you?”

 

“How old are you?” she blurted, realizing too late that that was not actually the question she meant to ask.

 

“...Thirty-two,” he answered, giving her an odd look.

 

“So you _are_ about my age. I thought so.”

 

“You must understand… I do not, ah, _mingle_ with the patrons. Things get... messy, you see.”

 

“But...how can you run a bar and _not_ mingle?” Ying asked, thoroughly confused. She propped her fist beneath her chin and pointed an accusing finger. “I’ve seen you mingle with everyone here tonight. We’re mingling _right now_ . ...Wait...you mean...oh. _Oh_.” Clapping her hand to her mouth to smother a peal of helpless giggles, she shook her head.

 

Vadim smiled as he wiped down the bar. If he was offended by her tactless laughter, there was no trace of it on his face. “My apologies for misunderstanding. You should speak with Yefim,” he added with a pointed glance at the clock behind him. “He can give you a room, yes? No need to walk home tonight.”

 

Following his gaze to the clock, Ying peered at it through bleary eyes until she was suddenly reminded of what had prompted her outburst in the first place. “Do you know the date?”

 

“Ahh... November third.”

 

“Yeah, but what year?”

 

“2278.”

 

“Oh. Huh.”

 

Ying stared down at the murky liquor in her glass, trying to process this latest bit of news. It wasn’t quite a shock, she was too numb for that, but it certainly changed things. Somehow.

 

“This makes you sad?” Vadim asked, confusion pitching his voice lower than its normal jovial boom. “Ah. Did you miss an anniversary?”

 

Not yet. Any anniversary she cared about hadn’t actually happened yet.

 

“Something like that,” Ying shrugged.

 

The bartender gave a knowing nod. “These things happen. But there will be others, eh?”

 

“Yeah.” With a forced smile, Ying set her glass aside and slid from her stool with exaggerated care. “I think I’m going to get that room now. Thanks, Vadim.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Ying woke with a groan and winced as the sound sent a pulse of pain through her temples and down to the very roots of her teeth. The taste of alcohol was still heavy on her tongue along with something decidedly less pleasant. Her blankets were rumpled and damp with sweat, and she had no memory of falling asleep in the bed she now found herself in.

 

Clearly, she’d made some questionable decisions the previous night.

 

After a quick look at herself, Ying sighed in relief.  Fully clothed - even her boots were still tied - and there was no sign that anyone else had been in the room with her. She was definitely feeling the side effects of her indiscretion, but a hangover was a small price to pay. It could have been much worse.

 

 _That was stupid,_ Ying chided, angry at herself for being careless. _This isn’t Goodneighbor or Sanctuary._  

 

She needed to be smarter. There was no one here looking out for her. Anything could happen and no one would give a damn. That was the downside of letting people in, Ying mused. Relying on others made her forget what it was like to have only herself. She didn’t have that luxury here. It wouldn’t happen again.

 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ying grabbed her pack, digging through it until she found a can of water. She drank slowly, resisting the urge to gulp until she was sure her stomach would tolerate the influx. Bits and pieces of the night before came back to her and while she was probably going to have a terrible time looking Vadim in the eye, it hadn’t been a total waste.

  


Somehow, she’d arrived ten years before activating that damned chip. A more clever mind than hers was necessary to determine exactly what that meant, but it was another clue, if nothing else. She doubted even Davis had known what his modified chip was capable of.

 

...Or had he?

 

Heat bloomed in her face and chest and her fingernails scored her palms as she recalled the scientist’s quip about the chip making their limitations ‘a thing of the past’. She’d brushed it off as general Institute weirdness, but the fucker had been making a joke! He knew exactly what he was sending her into. Back to? Didn’t matter.

 

She wouldn’t break his nose, Ying decided. She was going to fucking _strangle_ him. Then jab a stimpack into his throat just so she could strangle him again. If Father had a problem with that, he could go fuck himself. So could every bastard there. She was through with the Institute. Des would just have to find another spy.

 

Of course, none of that mattered if she was stuck here.

 

Dragging her hand through her hair, Ying took a deep breath. She needed a clear head to think this through, and fantasizing about how it would feel to have her fingers wrapped around Davis’ neck wasn’t the kind of clarity that would do her any good. But really, what would?

 

Ying had found herself in some fucked up situations before, but time travel, other dimensions - that was comic book shit. It wasn’t supposed to be real, and nothing in her life had ever prepared her to find out it was. She was guessing, at best. Lost. The worst part was she couldn’t go to anyone for help. Who would even believe her? The only one insane enough to even fool with this kind of crap had been Davis.

 

 _Davis_.

 

If anyone could understand this space-time bullshit, it had to be him. Getting to him wouldn’t be easy, assuming some version of him even existed here. She didn’t want to go to all the trouble only to find out he was also missing. Then again...after what she’d learned last night, it was possible she’d been wrong. Ten years was a long time. It made sense that things would be different. Piper would be little more than a child, not yet arrived in Diamond City and McDonough wouldn’t be mayor for another four years. The city hadn’t yet turned on the ghouls, so John had no reason to leave…

 

Hope flared hot in her chest. If the people she’d thought missing were still around, there was a good chance Davis and the Institute were as well. A possible contingency, if nothing else, but first, she needed more information.

 

Grabbing her pack, Ying frowned at how light it was, and silently amended her plans.

 

First, she needed caps.

 

With a sigh, she headed for the lobby. Vadim was already behind the bar, but there were only a few customers this early in the day. He waved her over when he saw her, face splitting in a wide grin. “Hello, my friend. You look better than I expected you to.”

 

Hoping the light was dim enough to hide her embarrassed blush, Ying shrugged. “It’s not my first hangover.”

 

He laughed at that, the sound like a gunshot going off in her head. “And hopefully not your last, eh?”

 

“Probably not,” Ying admitted. “It might be a while, though. I’m actually looking for work. You know anyone hiring?”

 

Vadim gestured toward the wall near the entrance where a few tattered sheets of paper hung. “There are the posters, but the pay is not so good.”

 

If it was like she remembered, the extermination jobs posted around Diamond City didn’t pay at all. She wasn’t going to risk going after a pack of ferals for a few measly spoons. “I’m looking for something a little more caps-in-hand.”

 

“Hmmm. A caravan lost a guard last week to injury. Nothing serious, so job is temporary.” His smile was apologetic as he spread his hands in front of him in a gesture of helplessness. “I know of nothing else.”

 

“No, that’s great. Temporary sounds perfect.”

 

Caravans paid well, and the less time she had to spend at the ass-end of a brahmin, the better.

 

“Ask for Kit,” Vadim advised. “And later, you come back, eh? First drink is on the house.”

 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Ying promised. “Thanks, Vadim.”

  


* * *

  
  
  


Tracking down Kit was easier said than done. Diamond City hosted several caravans at any given time, but after a few days of asking around, Ying found her outside the gates.

 

Pushing toward the far end of middle-age, Kit was one of the oldest merchants still in the business. She was also the most intimidating, despite the top of her head barely reaching Ying’s nose. Like the woman herself, Kit’s face was a study in contradiction. The right side sagged, pulled into a perpetual frown by the large diagonal scar that cut across her nose and lips. On the left, deep lines webbed the corners of her eye and mouth, suggesting she’d laughed long and often in her life. Mismatched eyes, one an icy blue, the other the dead white of a snail’s belly, held a shrewdness few would dare to cross. Ying immediately liked her, even as she tried not to fidget under the intensity of that disparate gaze.

 

Kit’s lips thinned around the stem of the pipe clenched between her teeth as she crossed her arms over her broad chest. She jerked a nod toward the revolver in Ying’s belt and asked, “You know how to use that?”

 

“I know enough, but I’m better with the knife.”

 

“Is that right?” Kit coughed and spat a glob of phlegm on the ground. “Doubt any raider’s gonna stand still long enough for you to stick him. Can you shoot or not?”

 

“I can shoot,” Ying said firmly. Maybe not as well as Hancock or MacCready, but both had sacrificed a piece of their sanity to ensure she could hold her own with a gun.

 

“Good. You ain’t any use to me dead. What about armor?”

 

“I don’t wear armor.”

 

Half of Kit’s mouth quirked in a grin. “You do now.” The older woman rummaged through a large pack on her brahmin and handled Ying a bundle of leather straps and guards. “That’ll be sixty caps for the armor, taken from your pay.”

 

“I was told the job was temporary,” Ying argued. “There and back. Sixty caps is an awfully big investment for one job.”

 

“You wanna rent the armor, be my guest, girl,” Kit said with a shrug. “I’ll be happy to take it back once we’re through. Still gonna cost you sixty caps.” Her grin vanished as she fixed Ying with a gimlet eye. “I’m not lookin’ for cowboys. On the road, we do things my way. If you can handle that, welcome aboard. If not, there ain’t much more to talk about.”

 

Ying hated ultimatums, but the prospects for an outsider in Diamond city weren’t great. If she wanted her Pip Boy back - not to mention things like food and a place to sleep - she needed this job.

 

“Alright,” she agreed. “Your caravan, your rules.”

 

“Glad to hear it,” Kit said wryly. “Pay’s two hundred caps each way. You get hurt it’s probably your own fault.” She pointed her pipe toward the bronzed statue of a baseball player that stood in front of the city. “Meet up over there in the morning. We leave at first light.”

 


End file.
